CR: Before you start designing, what do you focus on first: the place, the history, the client brief or your own instinct?

BB: Before I design anything, I try to understand the soul of the site and destination. A hotel should never feel like it could simply be lifted and dropped somewhere else in the world. If you erased the name on the front door, you should still know exactly where you are.

I research, read, and then I go wandering, walking the streets, visiting markets, museums, local churches and temples. Those buildings reveal what people value and celebrate. Only once I feel I have absorbed the spirit of a place do I really begin designing.

The client brief is important, of course, but for me the real question is always: what story does this place want to tell? When we began the Capella Hanoi project, I spent time exploring the city and thinking about its cultural history. Just down the road is the magnificent Hanoi Opera House, which in the 1920s and 30s was the centre of great social spectacle. That sparked the idea of a hotel inhabited by fictional opera singers, composers, stage designers and divas who might have passed through Hanoi during that era. Each suite became a character, each corridor a little bit like backstage at an opera house.

Once you discover a narrative like that, the design almost writes itself. The architecture, interiors and landscape simply become the stage on which the story unfolds.

CR: At Capella Hanoi, you tell the stories of 47 figures through one building, how do you
convince clients to invest in that level of storytelling?

BB: Storytelling through design is very much a BENSLEY signature. The first thing I relay to clients is that we are not simply building a hotel; we are crafting a living story, a place where every detail, every corner, every shadow has a life of its own. At Capella Hanoi, those 47 figures are not decoration—they are ambassadors of culture, history, and imagination.

I show them that guests don’t just stay here; they wander, discover, and become part of the story themselves. In today’s world of luxury, experiences are everything. I explain that this level of storytelling transforms a building into a narrative, and a narrative into an icon.

Once they feel it - once they see the sketches, the little anecdotes, the life behind each character - they understand that this is not a cost, it’s an investment in a legend.  When clients can see how the past and imagination can dance together, the decision almost makes itself.

CR: Does anyone ever tell you it is too much?

BB: Not really. Clients come to us because they want something unique. Sometimes a client may say, Bill, isn’t this a little too much? And I smile, because for me, too much is just another word for alive. I respond that a hotel, a resort, a building, it is not meant to be bland. It is meant to delight, to surprise, to make you stop in your tracks.

If guests walk through a hotel and think, I’ve seen this before, then we have failed. But if their eyes widen, if they laugh, gasp, or simply linger, then it’s working. I’ve never designed for subtlety alone. I design for memory, for emotion, for joy. Sometimes it’s flamboyant, sometimes whimsical, sometimes even outrageous, but it’s always true to the story of the place.

CR: When layering materials, how do you know when to stop?

BB: That’s where the magic happens, but also where restraint becomes an art. I never count layers. I follow my instinct. Each material, each texture, each colour must have a reason, a story, a voice. If it adds to the narrative, it stays. If it distracts, it goes.

I often tell clients, we don’t stop layering until the space feels complete, until it sings. Sometimes that means a hundred layers, sometimes just a few, but the space must feel alive, not cluttered. I look for harmony, rhythm, and surprise. The moment a guest can walk in and feel the space breathing, that’s when I know I’ve stopped.

CR: What is the biggest challenge when clients push back on sustainable choices?

BB: Sustainability is not just a buzzword, it is a responsibility. The biggest challenge is always the same: money talks, and sometimes sustainable options come with a higher price tag. Clients will ask, why spend more? And I tell them, it is not just a cost. It is an investment in the future of the project, the environment, and the story you are telling.

I overcome it by showing them that sustainability can be beautiful, luxurious, and unforgettable. I bring examples: reclaimed wood that tells a history, natural fabrics that age like wine, water systems that feel like art, not appliances. Guests notice these details, remember them, share them. And in the long run, they save money, energy, and credibility.

Sometimes it is also about imagination. A client may see a cost as a problem, but I show them how it becomes a character in the design, a twist, a surprise, a story. When they feel that, when they see that sustainability enhances the narrative instead of restricting it, the resistance disappears. Sustainability, like luxury, should never feel imposed. It must feel inevitable. That is how you get people to invest in what really matters.

CR: How do you keep quality consistent when you are not on site?

BB: Working across borders, that is the true adventure of design. You cannot be everywhere at once, but that doesn’t mean you compromise. Finding and trusting local suppliers comes from curiosity first and relationships second. I spend time meeting them, understanding their craft, their history, their pride. A handshake is not enough; I want to feel their passion, their obsession with detail.

Consistency comes from systems, not control. Detailed drawings, samples, prototypes. Every piece is tested before it travels. I rely on a trusted network of project managers who share my eyes and my instincts. And when I cannot be on site, I stay connected through images, videos, even little WhatsApp videos from the workshop.

But the secret is intuition. If a supplier shows care, creativity, and a respect for story, you can trust them. And I always allow a little magic to happen locally. Their expertise can elevate the design in ways I never imagined. In the end, it is a mix of discipline, trust, and letting the story breathe in every corner, no matter the distance.

CR: What do you think hospitality design will need to do differently in the next decade?

BB:  I’ve always believed that a hotel should be a story, a theatre, a place that makes people feel something, not just a bed for the night. In the next ten years, I think designers are going to have to embrace two very big shifts.

First, sustainability can’t be optional anymore. Not just in a token way, but fully integrated, from the materials we choose, to the way buildings breathe, to energy and water use. Guests are smarter now; they want luxury that doesn’t cost the planet. And I’ve found that clever, playful design, think storytelling through reclaimed or local materials, for example, makes sustainability feel like magic, not sacrifice.

Second, personalisation and experience will rule. It is no longer enough to have a beautiful lobby or a restaurant with great food. Every space, every corner, every detail should feel curated to the guest, with layers of character that tell a local story. People want connection, authenticity, and wonder. That means designers will need to become a bit like anthropologists, artists, and psychologists all at once.

If we get those things right, hospitality won’t just survive, it will thrill in ways people haven’t even imagined yet.